


training.

by valeskuh



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, BDSM, Choking, Dubious Consent, Electrocution, F/M, Fingering, Rough Sex, Sexual Torture, Slapping, Torture, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 16:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14674545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valeskuh/pseuds/valeskuh
Summary: you need to be broken in properly, jeremiah knows just how to make you his.





	training.

**Author's Note:**

> by popular demand, continuation to the jeremiah fic i wrote a couple weeks ago ;)

You'd grown used to it all.  
You're free of your restraints this time around- you knew better than to struggle.  
Cold metal against your back, you lay in front of your superior, your keeper- you knew better than to break eye contact for too long.  
Jeremiah liked to stare into your eyes while he had his way with you. The piercing, icy, lightest blue of his irises sent thrills through you.

Already your system was flush with his latest cocktail of drugs. Meant to enhance the experience for you, or perhaps to subdue you, you'd never know. Not like you had much of a choice either way.

"If you upset your master, you'll be punished severely. Do you understand?"

All too well.  
His voice was deep and rich and lit a thousand lights inside of your head. You felt spent already, tense, aflame as he secured something around your neck.

“Do you know what this is, darling?”

A collar- but not like any you’d seen before. You knew that wasn’t what you thought. It never was. And he’d be disappointed that you weren’t able to catch on.  
A pang of shame shoots through your core, and you shake your head.

"No, Mr. J."  
"Oh, _lovely_." His voice lilts unsettlingly higher. No disappointment there- eagerness instead.

A thousand possibilities scatter your thoughts. Spikes could shoot out of this thing, could impale your jugular. Maybe it would choke you to death. Crush your windpipe, snap your neck. Christ- Maybe he was finally going to kill you?

“You need to be trained, and this is _just_ the thing.”

On edge, shaking, you shut your eyes. The anticipation of how he would hurt you next made your pulse pound- you could feel it all over.

You hear Jeremiah rummage with something, and a small, metal object is placed into your hand. You run your thumb over what feels like a button, and Jeremiah lets out a snort.

“Go on and press it. Don’t move, don’t struggle.”

What choice did you have?

At first, you feel nothing. You hear a low hum- then, you’re on fire.

You’re being torn apart from your neck up, there’s heat everywhere. Shockwaves through the muscles of your neck and shoulders, involuntarily tensing them. It hurts- it _burns_ , it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.  
All your composure forgotten, your eyes snap open- hands fly up to your throat, frantically pulling at the collar in hopes of getting the horrible thing off of you.  
A sigh. Exasperated. As though you were a disobedient child.

“ _I told you not to move.”_  
Then the world tilts slightly. You’re lightheaded, and your pulse hammers in your ears.  
He’d backhanded you.  
You’re a mess. You’d told yourself that you wouldn't cry, but the stinging on your cheek and in your head is too much- already you can feel a heat prickling behind your eyes, a low whimper building up in your chest that you try and fail to suppress.

Something like pity flits across Jeremiah’s face for a moment before he curls his painted mouth backwards.  
“Oh dear… _What_ am I to do about this?”  
He pouts, mimics wiping away a tear with his free hand.  
“So scared already.”

Up and down his voice fluctuates. His tone was dangerous, and his eyes unnervingly dull.  
Out of his pocket he pulls a rose-colored knife, tinted from each time that your guts had grown familiar with it.

“You’ve disappointed me, sweet- You know what happens next?”

Punishment.  
Dizzy, low-lidded, you nod. Your head was still spinning, your body stiff from the electricity. You didn’t know how much you could handle, but anything and everything was better than the shock collar. Killing you would be merciful.  
A gloved hand strokes the side of your face, thumb running over your bottom lip.

  
“So _eager_ to be mutilated…”  
You open your eyes enough to see the smile tug at his crimson lips as he brings his knife to rest against your sternum.

“Who do you belong to?”  
Jeremiah croons in a dulcet tone- his voice even and unnerving as he traces the blade between your breasts.

“You, Mr. J,” you whimper, trembling. “I belong to you.”  
“Yes, you _do_ ,” he purrs, each syllable elongated over his tongue. “Only me.”

You knew then what assault he was about to perform on your flesh before even he started. Jeremiah was always a slow writer- precise in his carving and his penmanship.

His blade severs the delicate mesh of nerves, muscle, veins that string your skin across your torso.  
Curving, beautiful red gashes that you can’t tear your eyes from.  
It bites, and the blood that oozes from each cut is dark and thick.

Your assailant hums to himself, clearly pleased with his work. He’d carved a single word into the flesh of your stomach- his name. So deep that you could see the stickiness of your muscles shift on the inside with every breath.

“Just marking what’s mine.”

Your thighs spread slightly, involuntarily. His possessiveness excited you, even though the pain- and Jeremiah took notice.

“Dirty girl. That turns you on?”

 _Fuck_. You were almost sure he wouldn’t notice.

Your legs were shaking as his hands trail over your thighs, and your pulse hammers in your head as he removes one of his gloves.

Jeremiah smirks, maintains eye contact with you as he brushes his thumb over your clit. Even through all the pain, your hips were pushing up into his palm, begging for his attention, which he happily gave.

  
He pushes a finger inside where you were hot, dripping, and then another. Smirking as watches your face change, pumping both digits slowly, so so slowly.

“You handled punishment well, love.”

Mr. J’s voice was heavy with lust, reverberated all throughout you and put your whole body on edge.

  
“ _Fuck_ ,” you gasped, arching into him. “Fuck, I-I need-“

“More?” Jeremiah languidly strokes your throbbing clit one more time before pulling his fingers out of you.

“Be good for me, and I’m all yours.”

“I will be. Y-You can do whatever you want.”  
You’re desperate already. He knew just how to touch you, knew just how to bring you close to breaking.

“ _Good_ girl.”

With a low, satisfied noise he licks his fingers- You take note of him picking up the device that had set off your collar earlier. You can’t decide if the dread that washes over you overpowers the insatiable need for him to be inside of you.

“Now, shall we try again?”

He barely allows you to nod before turning the knob.

Again.

You want to cry. You want to pass out. You can feel the surge in the back of your jaw, behind your eyes. Your brain feels like it’s melting, electricity is violating places of your skull you didn’t even know existed.  
He’s holding it. He’s dragging it out. He wants you to prove you can be good for him.

You think he turns the intensity up then- you can’t tell, but it’s excruciating. It’s worse than anything you’ve felt- it fades as quick as it came.

Again, you feel relief. 

Jeremiah seems satisfied- but leaves you trembling, slack jawed, spent.  
"So good.” Mr. J’s lids lower as he wipes drool from the corner of your mouth.

“Do you think you deserve to be rewarded?"  
In a haze, you nod. Your eyes can barely focus, but fuck, you wanted him so badly. You felt yourself dripping, throbbing, so needing to be filled.

“Ask nicely.”  
It takes all of your fading concentration to do so. Head spinning from the fading thrills of electricity, your thighs tremble as head of his cock grinds against your clit. You don’t know when he’d undone his pants, you didn’t care.

“ _Please_ , Mr. J.”

And then you’re full of him- gasping, shaking, practically delirious as he pushes his cock into you inch by torturous inch.  
Jeremiah moans, his voice low and delicious and heavy with lust.  
He brushes a finger against your flushed cheek, taking in your slack-jawed expression with pride.

“What do we say?”  
"T-Thank you. _Fuck_ , yes, thank you, thank you."  
Words stumbled from your mouth, everything felt light and warm and fuzzy and _good_ , so good.

But again you’re aching as he pulls out. You whine, desperate for him to be inside of you again.  
A smirk dances on his lips as he watches you come undone beneath him.

"You always take me _so_ well, pet."

Jeremiah's voice was pleased- practically purring. His hand presses down on your windpipe, and stars dance in the outer corners of your vision.  
“Such a _good_ girl.”

A desperate, keening sound came from your lips. Jeremiah pushes into you again, sets a slow pace- fucking you deep, hard, rocking his hips steadily.

"You know," he breathes into your ear, shallow and low in his throat;  
"I'd rather fuck you _dead_."

That’s almost enough to send you over the edge, and he knows it. You’ve lost track of how many almost-orgasms you've had from all of this.

“J-Jeremiah…”

He only groans, his grip on your throat tightening as his cock slams into you. He slams his mouth against yours in what was hardly a kiss, sloppy and wet. You can feel your stomach flipping, coiling with each push of his hips.

This was the first time he’d fucked you like this. With every push your wounds screamed at you, your muscles tensed and white spots dance in the corner of your vision. The pain was almost unbearable- but the pleasure was all you could focus on. He already had you so close.

And fuck, you were _his_.

You wanted to thank him endlessly for allowing you to feel this way, for giving you what you needed. Wanted to tell him how good he was making you feel, but you couldn’t form the words. Could only moan, whine his name, quiver beneath him and wrap your legs around his waist as he fucked you senseless.

“Pl-ease… I-I’m-“  
You’re cut off with a squeak as Mr. J’s hand tightens around your throat.

 _“I know_.”  
And he angles his hips slightly and it’s too much. His thick cock grinds against that place inside you and you’re coming undone, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, legs shaking.

“Let it out for me.”

You do. You feel so warm, so light-headed as overwhelming waves of pleasure pulse through you. He fucks you through it, he always does, hand tangled in your hair as his thrusts become more erratic.

And then Jeremiah was shuddering- Gasping, but silent as always in his release. He spills into you, hot and sticky and throbbing as you whimper eagerly. 

And now you’re wet, wet everywhere. From your blood, between your legs, your mouth- your essence and his mixed together.

”So good.”

Throaty and breathless, spent. 

Spent as he gathers himself, climbs off of you. 

You’re burning from all different kinds of pain, still flying from pleasure, still trying to wrap your head around what had happened.

And still his.

Always his. 


End file.
